


luminous beings are we

by kairumption (lapmonster)



Category: C-Pop, EXO (Band), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Fusion, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, Drinking, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 23:51:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8264969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lapmonster/pseuds/kairumption
Summary: Jongin, an exiled but still prideful and devout Jedi Knight, reunites with irreverent Padawan-dropout turned Gray Jedi and smuggler Baekhyun to join “Forces” against the Sith, who have infiltrated the Jedi Order’s ranks.





	

**Author's Note:**

> of course i wrote kaibaek lightsaber au, do you even know me! loosely based on both canon and legends star wars lore with a lot of liberties taken because i’m a filthy casual and i didn’t want to do that much research. i apologize in advance for the wiki stock quotes. if the title sounds familiar it’s because yoda says it in the empire strikes back. thanks for beta'ing, jenna!
> 
> see full warnings/ships (spoiler) on [livejournal](http://rumwrites.livejournal.com/2615.html).

_“There is no emotion, there is peace._  
_There is no ignorance, there is knowledge._  
_There is no passion, there is serenity._  
_There is no chaos, there is harmony._  
_There is no death, there is the Force.”_  
-Jedi Code, restored by Grand Master Fae Coven

Every blink was a microsleep. The wound on Jongin’s upper arm was bleeding through the makeshift wrap he’d made using the tattered cloth of his Jedi garb. As he had been stripped of his title and rank, so too were his robes; now he only wore a plain shirt and trousers like he had as a youngling before his initiate training. The clothes of a civilian. 

No longer a Jedi Knight.

He tried to put that thought out of his mind. He tried to put all thoughts out of his mind, sitting fully clothed in the bathtub of a hotel room he had barely managed to secure. Most of all, he was trying to meditate but was too frayed and fragile, focusing too intently. That had been his fatal flaw since training: his intense focus. Such concentration must be light, almost casual; foresight was to be flirted with. He was supposed to let the vision seek him, be at peace, passive—but Jongin didn’t know how to relax when he was searching for something, particularly in such a dire situation. Now he was desperately reaching out to grasp a future that all depended on whether or not he would be in it. But it would not reach back.

He continued to drift, swaying between wakefulness and dreams as the pain in his arm and the small cut on his face both pushed him into the void of slumber and anchored him to the world. The dreams were not more than images, and certainly not of the future but of his past: A vision of Baekhyun Byun, a Padawan he had once known, swam behind his eyelids. He shook himself, shifting uncomfortably in the hard, unyielding tub.

Lowering his head between his knees, Jongin closed his eyes again, but felt himself slipping back to sleep. He tried to reposition himself again, leaning back, letting go of pain, letting go of frustration. Blank, was his aim. A blank canvas the Force could paint his future on. 

Still, only his past came to him: the youth in beige and brown robes, grinning up at him with teeth white and pretty, cheeks rounding and a pointed chin, a mole above the corner of his lifted lips. Black hair tousled, softer to the touch than Jongin ever could have imagined. Broad shoulders, despite his slender stature. In his dream state, Jongin felt it as he did when he was a Padawan: the bloom of fondness and warmth in his chest when Baekhyun would look at him like that. The way his long, beautiful fingers would grip the sleeves of Jongin’s robes when he tiptoed to kiss him. It was a feeling foreign to him now, isolated as he was from romantic entanglements: that fluttering in his gut, the way his mind would stop, and—something he had never told anyone—how he felt closer to the Force than he ever had, full with the life flowing from Baekhyun’s lips to his own. 

He recognized this scene. It was the last time he had seen him smile.

In the waking world, Jongin’s chapped lips parted in a wistful sigh. He listed to the side, pain blossoming in his arm as it brushed the tub’s edge. Suddenly, a flash of red strobed through his mind’s eye. Plainclothes. The aisle of a convenience store. A sweet taste on his tongue. Long eyelashes. Anger.

Baekhyun. 

Jongin opened his eyes. His past was his future.

He stood, carefully climbing out of the tub and making his way to the mirror. He inspected the cut on his cheek, scabbed over now, in need of bacta if he didn’t want a scar. He sighed, looking out at the room, eyes resting on the lightsaber he had left on the coffee table. He turned back to the discarded heap of robes he had left beside the tub, and set to redressing the wound on his arm, ripping strips of his robes with his teeth. There was no urgency in his movements, weighing his options as he changed into a cream-colored sweater he had bought along the way.

Baekhyun was on-world, Coruscant, and near even. Nothing happened by accident.

Jongin sat at the chair facing the table he had left “his” lightsaber. There was an untold doom in the pit of his stomach, unrelated to having to pay his old friend a visit. 

Someone was coming for him. Sith or Knight, he did not know, but he knew he couldn’t be without the weapon, loath though he was to use it again. Fear fell through him before he could stop it. It was not of death that he feared, but of what holding the sword again could mean. What if he was to become what they thought he already was?

Even so, he knew what he had to do. He donned his jacket, and picked up the Sith’s lightsaber.

✧✧✧

_“In the light, there is a darkness and in the darkness, a light. It is the way with us all.”_  
-Ketu, Temple Master of the Je'daii Order on Tython

Before even breaking the atmosphere, Baekhyun had begun to regret his return to Coruscant. He hadn’t been back since he left the Jedi Order as a teenager with nothing but his saber and a pocket full republic credits, barely enough to get him off the rock. Years later, he was now one of the best smugglers in the galaxy, a notorious Gray Jedi (although some people suspected him Dark) known for his pink lightsaber and quick smile. He had colleagues, allies, contacts, and enough money to retire happily on one of the outer systems if he wanted to. He was so different now from the young Padawan that had walked away from a life of solitude and honor, that had walked away from Jongin Kim.

Baekhyun shook himself, cursing his feelings that seemed to always betray him, just as the Masters had said they did. He didn’t want to think about the past, only the future: and how much money he was going to make in it. 

A call tried to come through, static roaring on the comm screen. Baekhyun clucked his tongue, annoyed. He wouldn’t be able to answer until he got his shuttle safely out of atmo. He hoped it was his contact for the drop, a Clawdite named Chanyeol, and not some idiot at port prematurely demanding his request for landing. Although, if they had already picked him up on his scanners, in his sleek (stolen) shuttle, the kind that ambassadors and senators usually flew in, it meant one of two things: they bought that he was someone of importance, or they were calling his bluff.

He had hoped it was the former, and now that he was in Coruscant airspace he felt it too. With a sigh of relief, he flew past the fancier harbors, opting for one more out of the way, but closer to the meeting place: a simple convenience store. Once docked safely, Baekhyun slipped into his blue and white jacket, clipped his lightsaber to his hip, and was sure to tap his credit chip to the parking space. 

Smog filled Baekhyun’s lungs with familiar intrusion as he stepped onto the tarmac. Without meaning to, he could feel the members of the Jedi Order like flames plumed in his mind. And Jongin’s presence, somehow, was the strongest of them all. He hated this system. He wanted a drink.

With ease, he evaded attendants eager to look after his shuttle, injecting his Jedi will into his words as he told them to leave it alone. Mind tricks were child’s play to Baekhyun, _literally_. Although he had grown within reach of the Galactic Republic, a home birth made his existence and apparent Force sensitivity elusive to those who would have sought him out—he had already been considered nearly too old when a recruiter finally came for him. His use of the Force, however, became obvious when he learned to speak. Though small, his influence to sway others was impressive (even if all he really used it for was to manipulate others into giving him free sweets). 

Even now, as the attendant slinked back away from Baekhyun’s shuttle and began unwrapping a cherry red lolly, Baekhyun held out his hand. “ _That’s mine_ ,” he said sweetly with a “forced” grin. 

“This is yours,” the poor attendant apologized blankly, gingerly handing it over to the strange lightsaber-toting not-Jedi but not thinking twice about the possibility of having been duped. 

Not even the lolly made Baekhyun smile for real as he popped its sweetness into his mouth and made his way out of the lot toward his intended destination. He really hated this system.

Baekhyun’s lightsaber swung at his hip, intimidating all who laid eyes upon it. It wasn’t much in terms of fancy lightsabers, though, having been recrafted several times over the years—but always with the same crystal, and always complete with some sort of added flair. This one had a fuzzy, dangly charm tied to the end of it, with its hilt threaded criss-cross for comfort. Whether people believed him to be a Knight or that he had murdered one to acquire such a weapon was irrelevant to Baekhyun: both assumptions served his needs. Although, it did sometimes inconveniently make him a target; he _was_ rather infamous these days. This was both good for business and a tedious drawback: a reputation was great as long as it didn’t get you caught, or dead. These days, there weren’t a lot of criminally active Gray Jedi out and about, especially in the Jedi Order capital of the Republic. Non-Forcefuls wouldn’t know him from any other being, but Jedi wouldn’t let him slide under their radar. Sucking on his lolly, he tried to keep his head down until he entered the convenience store drop spot.

“ _Your shift’s over_ ,” Baekhyun told the lone worker behind the counter as he twirled his unclipped lightsaber over with a flick of his wrist before resting it on his shoulder. 

“My shift’s over,” the worker emotionlessly confirmed.

“ _You’ll go home and tell no one I was here_ ,” Baekhyun added and the worker said the words back to him. Often Baekhyun would find the lightsaber menacing enough as is, sometimes he could even get away with gruffly telling someone “Jedi business” without any use of mind tricks. In this case, however, it was best that no one know of his visit to Coruscant.

Not that he had any delusions that Jongin hadn’t already felt him. He remembered a rumor that Jongin had become an investigator within the Order, solving murders and tracking down missing persons; his feelings would have found Baekhyun easily enough. Especially if he could feel Baekhyun just a fraction of how strongly Baekhyun felt him.

But Baekhyun tried to shake his head of those thoughts, shake his head of Jongin. That was a different time, a different Baekhyun—an idealistic Baekhyun. A Baekhyun that thought that love was the greatest Force there was. But he spent so much of his youth angry, especially after the Gathering. His training as an official Padawan had been shrouded in controversy, even before his forbidden romance with Jongin was discovered. His Master hadn’t trusted him. As fear was a strictly forbidden emotion for Jedi, the reaction to Baekhyun’s obtained kyber crystal showing a warm pink instead the cool colors associated with the Light had not been “fear,” but suspicion. It was only Jongin who ever believed him to be good, despite everyone else. He had thought him foolish, maybe; brazen, intolerably cheerful, irreverent, and dizzyingly magnetic—but never evil.

Baekhyun conceded that Jongin had been right: he _had_ been foolish. Foolish for thinking someone like Jongin, the devout allegiant he was, one practically raised by the Jedi Order, would ever choose him in the end. When they had been discovered, the Masters told them Jedi had no room for love. And so, dutiful, obedient, frustrating Jongin abandoned Baekhyun; Baekhyun abandoned the cause.

That drink was sounding so blasted good right now. But Baekhyun never drank on the job, and he wasn’t going to start. With an impatient sigh, Baekhyun pulled a comlink from his pocket. 

He didn’t bother with a greeting. “You want my services or not?” he demanded when Chanyeol answered.

The Clawdite’s reply crackled through the speaker almost before Baekhyun could even finish the question: “Got a better offer,” then abruptly hung up.

“You—!” exclaimed Baekhyun before throwing his comlink and vehemently spitting out his lolly. Anger filled him, coursing through his body as if to replace his blood; it roared in his ears and pumped with his heartbeat. All this travel, all this time, to this stupid planet—only to be _screwed over_ by a changeling whose face and shape and size would shift before Baekhyun even had the chance to track him down. 

It was of course then that an unfortunate being must have had a hankering for some form of deep-fried space balls, making the bell on the door ring with an untold intensity in Baekhyun’s now hyper-aware mind. “ _We’re closed_ ,” he hissed, not even making eye contact with the perceived intruder, who turned tail and ran without needing to be told twice. It was less a mind trick and more Force-infused rage, frightening rather than persuading.

The Force was suddenly loud in Baekhyun’s mind; he couldn’t quiet it. He yelled in fury and frustration, knocking over merchandise and whole shelves. Visions played behind his shut tight eyelids: his past and future blending together in a confusing mix. It was now when the Dark came out of the woodwork, those corners of his mind normally so well-hidden. The path to the Darkside may not have been as straightforward as the Jedi Masters had said, but the anger he felt was not the ultimate source of power that Darksiders claimed it to be either. In this moment it allowed too much of the Force to pour itself into him, using him as a vehicle for its own devices, staining him. As a Gray Jedi he knew more than anyone how the Darkside could tarnish one’s soul if not kept in check, but right now, he almost didn’t care. 

Now he _needed_ a drink.

Jacket hanging off his shoulder, Baekhyun stumbled to the refrigerators at the back, grabbing the first strong drink he could get his hands on. He sunk to the floor, leaning back against the cool glass of the refrigerator door and dropping his lightsaber to his side. The cap came off without much protest before he downed the contents, some trickling down his chin in his haste.

Images of Jongin, on Ilum, flickered in and out of focus: first as a child during the Gathering, then a man. He gasped, trying not to choke on his drink. How could this be his future? Something he left so long ago? Worst of all, more than ever, he could feel Jongin’s presence so acutely. And he could feel that Jongin could feel him too. Involuntarily, he felt himself reaching back to him, as if extending a piece of himself, an offering of sorts. Then he shied away, cursing himself. He wasn’t a _boy_ anymore, what was he doing? 

He was _still_ a fool.

Baekhyun continued to drink, head down and immersing himself in the visions. The alcohol—he was now on his second bottle of ebla beer—was meant to dampen them, numb himself to the Force, but it only made them stronger now. Louder than ever, like white noise amplified until it was all he could hear. Baekhyun knew, though, that this was no longer the work of the Force, but his own mind playing tricks on him. He was plagued with memories of this blasted place, when they were teenagers and life was only sparring and discipline and stolen, giggling kisses. He still remembered how Jongin would smile at him, so wide and bright, trusting and hesitant, bold and embarrassed. He still remembered the tears in Jongin’s eyes that wouldn’t fall when Baekhyun told him goodbye.

Into his fourth drink, with drained bottles littered around him, Baekhyun felt rather than heard someone come in. The bell didn’t ring, but Baekhyun knew someone was there nonetheless. The lights in the store flickered, an eerie ambiance filling the place. 

Eyes still downcast, Baekhyun shook his head, an ironic smile forming at his lips. The Force was strong with this one, sure, but whoever it was picked the wrong time to mess with Baekhyun. The stranger approached still, even as Baekhyun gripped the hilt of his lightsaber beside his hip. If the adversary called his name, Baekhyun didn’t hear it: only the ignition of another lightsaber.

He saw red.

With a flash, Baekhyun propelled himself at the other Jedi, leaping into an attack. It was met with a parry, swords crossed in a glowing X between the two. Finally, Baekhyun saw the other in the magenta and crimson light of their sabers: Jongin.

Baekhyun staggered back. Instantly, the true Jongin before him, the grown boy he had seen in his visions, sealed his red lightsaber.

“Red?” whispered Baekhyun incredulously, sheathing his own saber. With an extremely false nonchalance, concern bleeding through the lilt in his speech, he added, “Doesn’t seem your style.” 

“It’s not mine,” barked Jongin defensively. Then he wrinkled his nose. “Are you _drunk_?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, wiping his nose with the hand still holding his lightsaber. “Not enough.” 

Baekhyun’s mind reeled, eyes widening as he took in the other’s appearance. His hair was lighter than it was when they were kids together, now slicked back but disheveled and falling into his eyes. However, his sloped nose still had that bump in it, his skin was still dark and smooth, his now-chapped lips looking just as plush and soft as they had once felt. He was exactly the man Baekhyun had seen in his vision, but this Jongin was badly beaten. His posture was as rigid and proud as ever except that his shoulder drooped to the side, favoring his sword arm. He winced, lips curling back in a silent snarl as he reattached the apparently accursed lightsaber to his hip; blood dripped from under the sleeve of his blazer, running over the back of his hand, red droplets leaving his fingertips to splash on the white tile floor.

As Baekhyun couldn’t keep his eyes off Jongin, Jongin tried his best not to look at Baekhyun. He tried not to see each of Baekhyun’s kissable moles just as he had left them at his upper lip and temple and the shell of his ear; the long column of his neck; the faraway, dazed look in his dark eyes; the way his jacket fell off his shoulders, broader than he remembered. But he could see it all, peripheral vision betraying his intent when Jongin turned his head away from Baekhyun, the cut on his cheek now all too visible to the other. 

There was the smallest gasp, just a breath, as if waking from a dream, then: “You’re hurt,” Baekhyun murmured softly, holding out his hand to Jongin’s cheek, instinctively. His fingers barely brushed the line of Jongin’s jaw before they both flinched and recoiled from each other. Plainly, Baekhyun could see the blush burned pink on Jongin’s face.

Jongin sighed, still avoiding Baekhyun’s probing stare. “Come on. I’ve got a job for you.”


End file.
